


The Boys Get Overheated

by vesnake11



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: I lowkey love it, I'm Sorry, M/M, but - Freeform, crack ship, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesnake11/pseuds/vesnake11
Summary: Trent and Barry did a show or two together. It was some odd 20 years ago. They say casts have a bond, but Trent could never bring himself to talk to Barry. You would understand if you knew Barry back in 1994. He was just old enough to be a regular in a gay bar. He had blonde hair gelled back like a '50s greaser. It shone in the sun, just like his sky-blue eyes. His skin was aperfecttone of tanned-just-so, and he was toned enough to look like a regular at the gym, but not a rat. Just...perfectly twink, that was Barry. People seemed charmed by the slight feminity that was despite his otherwise masculine appearance. "People" included Trent.





	The Boys Get Overheated

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, it’s time for some Brent. The surprisingly loved ship in the Discord between Barry and Trent. You know what, be glad it’s not Greenedick, I’m hella confused about how to write that.

Trent Oliver. He, a Julliard-trained actor, was now working tables. He didn't understand why, but fate has a way.

He didn't understand why the world thought he was better off here, at least until Barry Glickman walked into the room, followed by Dee Dee Allen...and...whomever else.

All that mattered was Barry.

They did a show or two together. It was some odd 20 years ago. They say casts have a bond, but Trent could never bring himself to talk to Barry. You would understand if you knew Barry back in 1994. He was just old enough to be a regular in a gay bar. He had blonde hair gelled back like a '50s greaser. It shone in the sun, just like his sky-blue eyes. His skin was a _perfect_ tone of tanned-just-so, and he was toned enough to look like a regular at the gym, but not a rat. Just...perfectly twink, that was Barry. People seemed charmed by the slight feminity that was despite his otherwise masculine appearance. "People" included Trent. But Trent was new to the city. He grew up in a small town and was too scared and confused to confront his feelings for Barry.

But now...Now that Trent had figured out his identity as bi...

Damn.

Barry's eyes shone as much as ever, his whole body looking a pillow. He still had that peach fuzz, but now his darker, more matured hair felt like a pop to his ever so bubbly personality and charm that still seemed to exude off him. And then he sat down in the section Trent was waiting.

Oh God, oh fuck.

Next thing he knew, his life was being called worthless by a Tony winner, but it didn't matter, because Barry said he never shut up, and...wait...

Was that a compliment?

And now he just volunteered himself, well, his tour bus, to help Barry, Dee Dee, and someone named Angie get to Indiana to fix their reputations. It was going to be a long month.

The first night in Indiana, it was insane. The whole gang had finally met the girl they read so much about, and their motel looked like it was a complete murderhouse. These were the two reasons why Trent got a knock on his door at around 10. It was Barry.

“Uh, Trent? Can I come in?”

The man in question had just gotten into pajamas.

“...Why?”

“It’s prime time for murder, I need a tall, broad man like you for a human shield.” Barry spoke 100% seriously.

“Mm, what’s in it for me?” Trent replied, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Whatever you want, sweetie.” Barry was back to his charm, and it nearly killed Trent. He grappled onto the doorknob, just making sure he didn’t fall.

“I— I don’t know if you want that.”

“Come on,” Barry offers. “Why else do you think I didn’t knock on Dee Dee’s door. She’s so arrogant, I could sacrifice her.”

Then Trent pulled the door open, flustered.

And Barry—he read Trent’s mind. They—they were—KISSING? The softness of Barry’s lips against the ruggedness of Trent’s own was beautiful, he kept chasing for more. They stayed in each other’s affections to some odd hours in the night’s death. They only left so their female coworkers didn’t...erm...witness anything.

So it went, every night they kept this up. Trent found himself occasionally charming Barry over. The night of the fake prom, Trent immediately went to comfort Barry, pressing soft kisses into his cheek while his lover watched a trashy rom-com.

But he wasn’t really sure of how serious this was.

Then came the real prom. Trent had been offered a job as a drama teacher by Mr. Hawkins before then, and Barry seemed annoyed. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted that. But Trent believed it was Barry crossing a line, asking a custodial worker to dance at prom. They stood against a wall as music played.

“Are you staying here, or...” Barry trailed off his casual question.

“I don’t know. I think there might be more for me here.”

“What? You’re gonna forget me?”

“That’s why I’m conflicted.”

“I— I could hook you up with my agent,” Barry basically pleaded.

“Why do you offer?” Trent had to wonder.

“Look, Trent, I used to be a charmer, but that never worked on anyone sensible for more than one drunken night. You—you changed that, somehow—and I— I like you a lot. You’re better than I expected, and I want this to— to be...real. I...I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.”

Trent loved the look on Barry’s face as he responded. “For you, I think that’s barely a sacrifice,” he smirked.

The newly official couple looked out at the dance floor, spotting Emma running up to Barry, a terrified Alyssa holding her wrist so she didn’t kill herself, or anyone else.

“Hey guys!” The teenager seemed giddy, like a small child. Carefree and happy. Barry wondered when she last felt like this. She was composed in front of her peers, but she was still obviously very insecure, usually. “Somebody added something to the punch! Want some?!”

Now Barry understood why Alyssa had a death grip on Emma’s wrist. She was likely a whack level of drunk. He watched her down several cups. Most of the teens in here were probably tipsy, but Emma was a new level entirely.

“So,” Trent turned to Barry. “Want to go back to 1994?”

“Let’s go already!” Barry exclaimed. 

He grabbed Trent’s hand and they skipped over to the punch bowl.

Alyssa smirked. She turned Emma away from them. She didn’t need to know about that yet.


End file.
